


Bound to Keep on Ridin'

by louissass



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (a bit), (kinda), Alternate Universe - 1950s, Bets & Wagers, Bottom Louis, Denial of Feelings, Fluff, Greasers, Louis in Lingerie, Louis in Panties, M/M, Motorcycles, Recreational Drug Use, Riding, Rivalry, Smoking, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Theft, Top Zayn, greaser!zayn, teddy boy!louis, teddy boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4718567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louissass/pseuds/louissass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The first small moan that passes through Louis’ lips is what knocks Zayn into his senses, pulling an inch away from Louis’ lips and opening his eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Zayn,” Louis breathes, his lips brushing against Zayn’s chin as he speaks. “Please,”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Bet you can’t let me fuck you,” he whispers, pressing the words into Louis’ skin as he kisses along his jawline.</em>
</p><p>Or, a 50's au where greaser!Zayn has a motorbike and teddy boy!Louis wants to ride both</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound to Keep on Ridin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrincessKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessKitten/gifts).



> There are a few things I would like you to consider before reading this fic:  
> -This fic is set in 1950’s Britain and I have tried to make it as accurate as possible so bear in mind that there might be implied/outright sexism/racism/homophobia.  
> -Also watch out for (1950's) British slang  
> -Even though I’ve tried to make it accurate, some things are a bit dubious, so do take everything with a pinch of salt, and definitely don’t site me in your history essays ;)  
> -Zayn is a greaser and Louis is a Teddy boy, however because the word "greaser" didn’t come to England until the 60’s, Zayn is called a ton-up boy or a leather, which essentially means the same thing.  
> -Just imagine that 1950’s underwear is a lot sexier than it actually is, okay ;)
> 
> But mostly, enjoy reading this, I had a lot of fun writing it !!!!

After a long day at the Butcher’s, Zayn finally settles in his favourite pub with a pint of bitter in his hand and a cigarette between his teeth. The bartender, Niall, is a really nice Irish lad, and for that reason, he lets Zayn sit in a corner booth by the dartboard, even though he’s not technically allowed in the white-only pub. But it’s his local, and Niall likes him, so Zayn isn’t going to travel an extra two miles to the mixed bar just because of some stupid sign.

He’s just finishing up the shading on the dead carcass he started drawing before he closed up, when a bunch of local posh kids come into the bar.They’re all impeccably dressed, blue, green and red drainpipe trousers with matching blazers, brown leather shoes, and their hair gelled into some weird point in the middle of their forehead. Zayn’s eyes may linger a tad too long on the shortest one with the loudest voice, as he rests his forearm on the bar top, confidently ordering six pints for him and his friends, but no one needs to know that.

“Louis shut up, you did not smoke a pipe in your father’s office, he would’ve slaughtered you!” A brown eyed boy in a red suit says, smacking ‘Louis’ on the arm.

Louis, as it turns out, is the one in blue, with a big arse that stretches out his suit, a loud voice, and is at least a head shorter than the other Teddy boy’s. “I did, Payno. And it wasn’t even the first time. I smoke all the time in my dad’s office.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, because that just sounds like a load of bullshit. There is no way this innocent little boy with too much hair product in his fringe has been anywhere near a pipe in his life. Zayn can usually spot the smokers – and not just because they’ve got a lit cigarette in their hand, either – and these boys definitely aren’t. He scoffs quietly under his breath, before continuing on with his drawing, Louis’ voice filtering through his ears every once in a while.

Some people might think it’s gross, for Zayn to sketch a dead pig hanging upside down, but if Jackson Pollock can splatter paint on a canvas and sell it for millions of pounds, then Zayn can draw a dead pig. There’s something about the tranquillity of death, the helplessness of the animal, that Zayn loves, and it might be totally absurd and difficult to draw, but Zayn loves a challenge, which is exactly what this is.

“Nialler, if I down this pint in one, can I have it for free?” Louis shouts at the top of his voice, making every single person in the bar turn to look at him.

Louis is definitely a challenge, as well.

***

Liam and Harry are waiting outside the cafe when Louis finishes his last shift for the week. He’s tucking the £8 he just got paid into the inside pocket of his purple blazer. The brown envelope barely fits, but he squeezes it in. The Morris Minor is parked on the other side of the road, so Louis hops over and climbs into the back of the car. Harry’s dad is quite rich – more rich than Louis’ – meaning Harry was able to pay for the newest model, which has four doors instead of two. That’s always handy, Louis thinks, it makes for a quicker getaway.

“How was work, Lou?”

“Terrible,” Louis groans, taking his comb out of his pocket and twisting it through his fingers, “Creepy Jim spilt his coffee all down my shirt, _again._ That’s the third time this week! When is Belinda going to promote me so I don’t have to deal with the crazies and the drunkards anymore?”

“Aw cheer up, it could be worse,” Liam says pointedly, not-so-subtly reminding Louis that he works in the Iron Factory, and as a result is partially deaf and has lost the top of his thumb. Louis really hates it when his friends point out how easy he’s got it compared to them. Like _hello_ , life isn’t a competition!

“We going to the pub then?” Louis asks Harry, who has started to drive away from the dreaded cafe.

“Yeah, which one do you wanna go to?”

“The Plough!” He replies quickly, fidgeting with his fingers when the two boys groan.

“We’ve gone there every night this week, it’s getting boring now. Can’t we go somewhere else?” Liam whines, making Louis rolls his eyes. Why does Liam always disagree with him? It’s kind of rude, to be honest.

“You did ask me which one I wanted to go to, you can’t just reject my answer when you don’t agree with it.” He points out. “C’mon boys, please? I’ve got my eye on someone and I know they go to that pub every night.”

Harry looks at him in the rear-view mirror and raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? Looking for a Mrs Tomlinson already, are we?”

Technically, Louis’ talking about the young man who always sits in the corner of the pub with his head in a sketchbook. He doesn’t know what it is, he’s just so intrigued by the apparent artist, something about him is so alluring and mysterious. Louis wants to know everything about him. But, for some reason, Louis lets them believe he’s chasing after a girl instead.

“Yeah and I think I’m in with a real chance, alright lads?”

“Fine,” Liam sighs, giving up almost immediately, “The Plough it is.”

Louis punches the air and hollers loudly, leaning back against the leather seats with a smug grin on his face. Take that Liam and your stupid flat thumb. (Louis loves Liam really, it’s just a bit of banter they’ve had going since they met two years ago.)

They get to the pub relatively quickly, thanks to Harry’s speeding and the light traffic at three in the afternoon. Everyone’s probably still at work, suckers. The Plough is also, unsurprisingly, extremely empty, not even the man with the sketchbook is here yet. Louis tries to keep his hopes up, knowing that the man always comes for a drink after work in this pub and will definitely be here. Maybe Louis can pretend to need the toilet again and get a better glance at his intricate drawings as he walks past.

“Is she here?” Harry asks as Liam orders them drinks. Louis pretends to look around for ‘Mrs Tomlinson’ before answering, trying to make it somewhat believable that he doesn’t already know.

“Not yet.” He sighs, “Will be though, comes in everyday after work.”

“How do you know she works?”

“I–” Louis doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything. His eyes dart around for an excuse, finally settling on the framed picture of the owner’s grandmother, a suffragette. _Okay, Louis, you can do this._ He snorts out a laugh. “You know women and their rights. She looks like the type to keep a job, y’know?”

Harry nods. He does know. “Watch out, though, Lou. They’re a handful, they are.”

“It’s all about the chase, you know that.” Louis laughs with a wink. Niall finally hands over their pints, Louis sighing gratefully for something to keep his hands busy.

“She here, then?” Liam asks, and Louis holds back a groan at the repetitive question. Keep up, Liam!

“Is who here?” Niall chimes in before Louis even has a chance to open his mouth, leaning against the bar with an inquisitive look on his face.

“Louis’ new bird,” Liam says, taking a sip of his beer, “Reckons she’s gonna be his wife one day.”

Louis blushes, the thought of the dark skinned boy in a wedding dress only crossing his mind for a second. Okay, maybe a little longer than a second. “Shut up, I never said that.”

“Dibs on best man!” Niall shouts, raising his hand up in the air. Louis cradles his head in his hands.

“Will you tell us one of your daring tales, Louis?” Harry asks, taking a sip of his pint. Louis knows he’s only feigning nonchalance, but he doesn’t care, he’s grateful for the change of topic.

Louis straightens his back and claps his hands together, a wide smile on his face. “Well of course I can, young Harold.” He says, “What would you like to hear about today? The time I stole my cousin Mikey’s motorbike, or the time me and Tommy smoked weed in his mum’s garden?”

“Motorbike, we’ve already heard the weed story already.”

“That was a different weed story. This one’s better.” He lies. None of Louis’ _daring_ _tales_ are actually true, and he’s almost positive the boys know that. He’s really glad they humour him, however, otherwise trips to the pub would be a lot less fun.

Liam thinks for a minute before shaking his head, “Motorbike.”

“Motorbike it is,” Louis says with a smile, “Well, when I was just gone sixteen, Mikey got this bike for Christmas. It was an AJS 7R. Not a very exciting bike, I know, but at the time it was really cool. I was really jealous, because I was _sixteen_ , right, and my parents only got me a board game and a water gun for my birthday and Christmas. So what I did, I snuck out the night of the 25th, and I got on his bike, and I rode off with it,”

Louis hears a snigger behind him and huffs, never liking his stories being interrupted.

“Is there a problem, mate?” He asks, turning round to face the offender and– oh. It’s the sketchbook boy.

“Not at all,” The man says, sniggering again, “It’s just I can tell that you’ve never been on a motorbike before.”

“Um, yes I have.” Louis retorts, before realising that was a bad idea. This man is clearly a ton-up boy, his leather jacket, driving gloves, and slicked back hair all indicators of that, meaning he probably has a motorbike. He really should learn to keep his mouth shut, sometimes.

Ton-up looks amused. “Hm, okay, Ted.”

“Actually it’s Louis.” He replies, realising a second too late that the man was referring to his choice of clothing, rather than his name. Louis feels his face go beet red.

“That’s nice, Ted,” Ton-up replies, throwing in a cheeky wink. Louis feels his blood boiling, yet reminds himself to stay calm. Louis is rich, this ton-up is probably lower class. “I’m Zayn, if you were after my name.”

If Louis’ not mistaken, it means beautiful. Fits the ton-up quite well, he thinks.

“No, I–”

“Well, if you wanna go on a _real_ motorbike anytime soon, just give me a buzz,” he says with a wide smile, taking the pint from Niall, “Mine’s just outside.”

Louis looks out the window where Zayn is pointing, and there, on the cobbled street, is a Harley Davidson 165. It looks beautiful, and such a rarity to find a bike like this on the streets of Doncaster, the racing scene more prominent down south near London. Louis has a very sudden urge to kick Zayn’s pretty little backside (not that he’s been looking at how little or pretty it is) but when he turns around to give the ton-up a piece of his mind, he’s gone.

He quickly locates him, however sitting in his corner booth by the dartboard, sketchbook on the table. Louis wants to give the smug little ton-up a piece of his mind.

“Listen here you little shit,” he growls, slamming his hands on the sticky table. Zayn looks up at him, but doesn’t look at all phased. “I’ve been on a real motorbike and I can go on a real motorbike again, got it?”

“You wanna bet, pretty boy?” Zayn asks smugly, standing up as well. Louis definitely doesn’t like that Zayn is taller than him.

“Well...” He stutters. Did– is Louis imagining it, or did Zayn just call him pretty? He knows it was meant as an insult, but he can’t help but take it as a compliment. Zayn called him _pretty_. He suppresses a squeal. Louis looks behind him where Liam and Harry are watching with open mouths. He can’t let his boys down. “Yeah.”

“Alright, I bet you aren’t as tough as you think you are.” He proposes, folding his arms. Louis folds his as well.

“Well I bet that I am.”

Zayn laughs, sticking out his hand for Louis to shake, which he does cautiously. “Good. Meet me outside the town hall tomorrow at five. We’ll start your first test.”

“Fine.” He retorts lazily. Then Zayn is downing half his pint, before picking up his sketchbook from the table and pushing past him. It’s only when Zayn is already at the doors of the pub that Louis realises what he said. “Wait, what?”

“You'll see, pretty boy.” Zayn laughs, pushing through the doors. Stunned, Louis makes his way back to the boys at the bar.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Lou?” Liam tuts, taking another swig of beer. The worrying thing is, Louis really has no idea.

***

When the church bell strikes five times, Louis stands up straight against the wall he was previously leaning on. He was five minutes early, just in case Zayn was too, and then they could get this over with quicker. But it’s five o'clock and the ton-up boy still isn’t here. Louis is beginning to think his strange bet yesterday afternoon was a dream.

However, it’s not long before Louis can hear the distinct sound of a 165cc engine at least a street away, and with Zayn being the only owner of a Harley Davidson in this town, Louis reasons it’s his ride. He tugs at the end of his pinstriped suit nervously, making sure he looks presentable. Louis isn’t exactly sure why it matters what he looks like, but for some reason it does. He dismisses the very real possibility that he wants to impress the boy, because why on earth would he want to do that?

 Zayn pulls up in front of him and turns the engine of his gorgeous bike off. He slowly removes his helmet, revealing his flawless face, perfectly styled hair, and a smug grin on his lips. “You came.”

Louis may just be a young, hormonal man, but that sounds a bit too sexual for his liking.

“Yes, I– yes. I did,” Louis stutters out, shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

“Good,” Zayn smiles, getting off his bike and placing the helmet on the handlebars. “C’mon then.”

“Where are we going?”

Zayn doesn’t respond, just walks on the cobbled street with his hands in his pockets, forcing Louis to trail along behind him like a lost puppy. Louis, never one for patience, whines the whole way, asking Zayn where they’re going, what they’re doing, and if he’s going to stab him in a back alley or not (it should be alarming that Zayn doesn’t even reply to the last comment, but for some reason it isn’t).

When they arrive outside the Off Licence, Zayn stops.

“What are we doing here?” Louis asks with a frown, “If you think me drinking alcohol is gonna make me tough then sign me up, I drink enough as it is.”

“Oh we’re gonna drink it, pretty boy,” Zayn smirks. There’s that nickname again. Louis desperately tries to hide his blush. “ _After_ we’ve nicked it, that is.”

“Are you crazy?” He whisper shouts. Zayn can’t be serious. Louis has never stolen in his life, and he doesn’t plan on starting soon. Besides, Alan from down the road owns this Offie, Louis can’t _steal_ from his father’s friend.

“Don’t think so, no,” he replies cheekily. Louis narrows his eyes.

“You can’t be serious. You expect me to _steal_ something?”

Zayn just raises an eyebrow, apparently one hundred percent serious. “I thought you were tough?”

“I– I am,” He’s frowning, trying to figure out a way to not go through with this, but also make Zayn happen. Louis doesn’t know when making Zayn happy became so important to him.

“Great! Get us a bottle of Scotch then will you?” Zayn grins, slapping him on the back.

Louis jolts forwards from the force, now closer to the entrance of the shop. He takes a deep breath and shakes out his hands. Okay, he can do this.

The bell dings as he enters the shop. Alan greets him with a grunt, so Louis gives him a nervous smile in return. Zayn is right on his toes, nudging Louis further into the shop with the back of his hand before walking up to the counter and distracting Alan by asking about tobacco and cigarette brands. Louis doesn’t really know, he doesn’t smoke.

He locates the scotch easy enough, and bends down so he’s eye level with the bottles (also so he’s completely out of Alan’s line of vision). Louis picks up a bottle cautiously, holding his breath when it clinks against the bottles adjacent to it. When no one seems to notice, Alan’s monotone voice still sounding in the background, he breathes out slowly and slips the bottle into his jacket. There’s a distinct bulge in his left lapel, it’s pretty obvious that he’s hiding something in there, so he goes for plan B, taking off his blazer completely and draping it over his arm, the bottle hid underneath the fabric.

Then, he coughs awkwardly and makes his way out of the shop. Zayn follows not long after, and the two of them leg it to a nearby park. They sit underneath a tree in the far corner of the park, laughing and drinking and smoking.

“I can’t believe you made me do that.” Louis breathes into the rim of the bottle as he takes another swig.

“You say that like you’ve never stolen before, pretty boy,” Zayn replies, before taking the bottle from Louis and pressing it to his own lips. “But I know you have, all the tough guys I know regularly nick stuff, and you, you’re pretty tough.”

Louis blushes. Zayn called him pretty, _again_.

***

“You still haven’t told us how it went with the Leather last week, y’know,” Liam points out, sucking on the straw in his strawberry milkshake.

 _His name is Zayn_ , Louis thinks, rolling his eyes and throwing a rag over his shoulder. “Go to work, Liam.”

It’s a Wednesday, Louis has been working for about two hours and he’s already done with this shitty café. He’s the only one manning the counter, meaning he gets random coins thrown at him, coffee splattered all up his shirt, and angry sneers from the people who are late for work because they’re waiting for their fry up. Not that that’s even Louis’ fault, he’s not the cook!

“Don’t start until three,” He replies with a cheeky grin.

“So, what, you’re going to bother me until then?”

“Yup basically,” Liam replies, laughing when Louis groans loudly. “Now c’mon tell me, what did he have you do?”

“Well,” He starts, leaning his elbows on the counter and lowering his voice a little. Louis’ family are extremely well respected, and he doesn’t want to ruin that reputation just because of some stupid bet. “Zayn and I went to Alan’s and he– um, he made me take a bottle of scotch.”

Liam’s eyebrows shoot up. “Take as in–”

“Yeah,”

“And you did it?” He asks. Louis nods, averting his eyes from Liam’s gaze. He’s ashamed, to be quite honest. “Well, at least you won the bet. It’s over now, right?”

Louis doesn’t reply. He remembers Zayn saying something about his next test when they were getting drunk in the park, but he’s not entirely sure how serious the boy was being. They were both more than tipsy at that point.

The bell rings, indicating someone wants to be served, so Louis leaves Liam and returns to the till, only to be met with Zayn.

“What can I get you?”

“Bacon butty to go, please, Teddy.” Zayn says with a wink, causing Louis to scowl. Louis repeats the order to Belinda, who is working on the grill behind him and begrudgingly moves back to the till, where Zayn is making himself far too comfortable on a stool just next to the counter.

“That’ll be one and six,” He mumbles with his head down.

“I’ve only got shillings,” He says, handing over two shillings, “But you can keep the change if you do something for me,”

Louis’ face lights up at that, he doesn’t usually get tipped. “What?”

“Bunk off your shift.”

“No! Absolutely not!” He says almost immediately. Louis couldn’t do that to Belinda, especially not because it’s just the two of them working today and he knows she wouldn’t be able to cope on her own.

Zayn smirks knowingly, shoving his hands back into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I knew you wouldn’t. I knew you were too soft.”

“I’m not soft!”

“Then why won’t you bunk off?”

“I could if I wanted to,” Louis mumbles. “I just don’t want to.”

Zayn leans over the counter, so he and Louis’ faces are mere breaths away from each other, and smirks. “I bet you can’t.”

Louis bites his lip. He glances back at Belinda, who has just called out that Zayn’s butty is ready, and then back to Zayn hesitantly. Zayn raises an eyebrow and Louis sighs, his whole body sagging.

“Give me ten minutes.”

He puts Zayn’s butty on the counter and wraps it in white paper, before handing it over. Zayn grins, taking a bite out of the sandwich before making his way out the door.

“I’ll see you in five, pretty boy.”

Louis is so fucked.

***

It’s been five weeks since Zayn first made the bet with the Teddy boy in the pub. Each week he’s been going further, pushing Louis to his absolute limits, waiting for him to eventually cave and lose the bet, but so far he’s done everything Zayn’s thrown at him. Which baffles him, because he knows for a fact that Louis is full of bullshit, and hasn’t done even half of the shit he claims he’s done.

So today he’s pulling out the big guns.

He’s going to push Louis further than he imagines any man has ever been pushed before. He’s on his bike, driving to the café Louis works at so he can pick him up straight after his shift, the items in his satchel metaphorically weighing down the back of his bike. Zayn just hopes that Louis doesn’t take it the wrong way, it’s purely a tool to embarrass and show up the Teddy boy, not come on to him. Even though, Zayn can’t deny, Louis is extremely pretty for a man, and he kind of wants to squeeze his bum.

Zayn makes it to the café as Louis is coming out of the building. He pulls off his helmet and smiles, waiting for Louis to walk over to him. Louis sighs, but reluctantly makes his way over.

“C’mon then, what are we doing today?” He asks warily.

One thing Zayn will never forget is Louis’ face when he says, “You’re going to drive the bike.”

“Me?” He asks in response once he’s figured out how to talk again. Zayn hums a confirmation. “I– no. I don’t need to prove to you that I can drive a motorbike.”

“I bet you can’t, pretty boy.”

***

“Why did you bring us here, Zayn?” Louis asks after turning the engine of the motorbike off. He drove for about three miles before Zayn shouted in his ear to take a left turn and lazily directed them to an empty grazing field. There was a big oak tree at one end, a six foot hedge following the border of the field, which is probably just as well, as Zayn pulls out a brown paper bag containing a lot of weed and a pipe.

“Bet you can’t do weed,” He smirks, before sitting down in the shaded grass under the oak tree and taking the items out. He’s not a massive fan of smoking in general, but really there’s no way Louis can say no, not when he’s been challenged like that, and Zayn knows that.

Reluctantly Louis takes a seat next to Zayn as he lights a match and uses it to light the pipe. Once he’s inhaled some of the smoke, Zayn passes it to Louis, who copies what he remembers his father doing when smoking regular tobacco from a pipe. He chokes on the smoke, not expecting it to catch in his throat like that, and thrusts the pipe back into the hands of a cackling Zayn.

“How do you feel?” Zayn asks, taking another hit.

“I don’t feel any different,” Louis replies honestly. He thought that after one hit everything would be psychedelic and hilarious, just like they make it out to be in the Pictures.

“Oh, you will.” He laughs, handing the pipe over to Louis again.

Louis reluctantly inhales the smoke again, forcing himself to breathe it in without choking, before blowing it back out again. However when he tries to pass the pipe back to Zayn, he doesn’t take it, forcing Louis to take another hit. He takes hit after hit, Zayn watching with a small smirk on his face, until he can barely bring the pipe up to his lips and Zayn has to pry it out of his hands.

“Okay,” He whispers, throwing his hand in front of his face and wiggling his fingers around, “I’m definitely feeling it now,”

“Yeah? How do you feel?” Zayn asks, lying back on the grass with his arms under his head. Louis quickly follows suit, smiling at the clouds slowly moving across the sky.

“Happy,” He says after a bit of thought, “Funny,” Zayn laughs at that one, and so does Louis, “Calm,” He finishes.

Zayn hums, edging closer to Louis on the grass and turning his head to look at him. “Good. Wouldn’t want you to get stressed, would we, pretty boy?”

“Why do you keep calling me pretty, Zaynie?”

“Well, Lou, because you are very pretty.” Zayn replies, his voice light and airy. Louis giggles at Zayn’s compliment, poking the ton-up boy teasingly in his floating rib. Zayn laughs, poking Louis back, which ends up turning into a wrestling match, tickle fight, thing. Louis loses, of course, ending up with his back on the grass, Zayn sitting across his stomach, pinning his wrists to the ground.

All of a sudden, the air between them becomes charged. Their faces are close enough as it is, but Zayn seems to move in closer, his nose brushing against Louis’ cheeks with every exhale. Louis kind of wants to kiss him. He thinks it’s probably the drugs that’s making him so calm about wanting to snog a _man_. Zayn’s eyelashes flutter and he glances down at Louis’ lips, before making eye contact again, his breath hitting the corner of Louis’ mouth. But in the blink of an eye he’s gone, pulling back so he’s sitting upright on Louis’ hips, rummaging around in the brown satchel to the right of them.

“Ready for your next challenge, Lou?” He asks, hiding something behind his back. Zayn seems to have a faint redness on his cheeks, and he’s biting his lip. He looks nervous, almost as if he’s scared to show Louis whatever it is that is behind his back.

Louis hums in response, nodding his head softly. He thinks he’s prepared for whatever Zayn seems to have for him, thinks he’s done most of the risky stuff he could possibly do, but he is not prepared for what Zayn pulls out of that brown paper bag.

“I bet you can’t wear this,”

It’s– it’s a garter belt with a pair of light brown stockings. Zayn wants him to wear a fucking garter belt.

After Louis doesn’t say anything for a while, Zayn starts to fidget, running his fingers over the lacy material and stuttering out some sort of explanation. “It’s– umm, I went shopping with my sister a few days ago and I saw this and– I just thought your legs would look so good in these stockings, and your hips would look really curvy and just nice. You don’t have to wear it I– umm, it’s stupid–”

“Give it here, then,” Louis giggles, holding his hand out for the underwear. Zayn hands it over gingerly, rolling off of Louis’ body so he can run around the other side of the oak tree and change behind it.

***

Zayn sits there, shocked, for a good minute and a half. He honestly can’t believe Louis actually agreed to wearing women’s underwear. Maybe it was better he got the Teddy boy high first, so that his inhibitions were lower, and he didn’t care as much that what he just agreed to would make him subject to ridicule for his entire life, if he were with other people.

The oak tree doesn’t cover his modesty at all, Zayn sitting at just the right angle that he can see Louis take his drainpipe trousers, socks and shoes off, slipping the stockings on to his legs. Zayn remembers the Polaroid camera he snuck into his satchel at the last minute, and takes it out, snapping pictures of Louis’ curves as he bends over, and a few more when he slips his shirt off his shoulders.

He’s not a creep, just an artist, and he can’t help but sketch a beautiful scene when he sees one. Zayn pulls out his sketchbook and sticks each well-developed picture to the top of a page, beginning to sketch the outlines of Louis’ body. Occasionally, he looks up from his work to snap a new picture of Louis putting on the garter belt and another of him clipping the belt to the top of the stockings.

He knows Louis is finished changing, but figures he’s taking time to psych himself up so doesn’t rush the teddy boy to show himself, just carries on sketching, shoving the bad or blurry pictures in his satchel. Hopefully he can use them for inspiration at a later date.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?” Louis’ shaky voice sounds from where he’s apparently retreated further around the tree, making Zayn jump and quickly shove his sketchbook in his bag to prevent getting caught.

“Course I won’t, I told you to do it, didn’t I?” He responds. Zayn’s voice is too happy, too enthusiastic, but he’s trying to get Louis to show himself in the pretty underwear.

“Okay, I’m coming out,” He whispers, peeking out from behind the tree before stepping out fully so he’s in full view.

Zayn’s mouth drops. He doesn’t even know how Louis’ skin is so golden and tanned, since England is less than sunny, and he guesses this boy has never been out of this country, but it is, and it sets off against the baby blue garter belt _perfectly_. The stockings make his legs seem extra smooth and golden and long, the shape of his muscly thighs not at all being compromised. Louis’ cock is hanging between his legs, already visibly hard just from putting on the underwear, the garter belt accentuating his tiny waist and wide hips, and Zayn can’t _wait_ to see the boy’s bum.

He stands up and walks over to the extremely self-conscious boy, his arms crossed over his bare chest. “Do a twirl, will you?”

Louis swallows thickly, but does what he’s told, slowly turning around in front of Zayn. His hands dart out and still Louis’ hips when he’s facing away from him so he can admire the boy’s back and arse. It truly is a wonderful arse, full and round and firm, the dip in Louis’ golden back only accentuating how beautifully big it is. Zayn’s scared to move his hands and feel Louis’ skin, despite how much he really wants to, instead pulling the boy into his body, just feeling the warmth against him.

“That was easy, Zaynie,” Louis says stiffly, his voice extremely telling that it was, in fact, not easy in the slightest. “You got anything else for me?”

“You want another challenge?” Zayn asks, an eyebrow raised. He’s speaking softly, his lips right next to Louis’ ear, and he hums quietly when Louis nods. “Okay, I’ve got one. You sure, pretty boy?”

He nods again, seemingly holding his breath, waiting for Zayn to talk. Zayn’s heart is beating loudly, his hands gripping tighter at Louis’ skin in case the Teddy boy tries to run away. He knows what he’s going to say, and he knows how to spin it if Louis says no. Zayn just really wants to test his limits.

That’s why he brings his lips even closer to Louis’ ear and whispers, “Bet you can’t kiss me,”

Louis gasps, but turns his head to the side, immediately capturing Zayn’s lips in a hesitant kiss. They both know it’s completely wrong to be kissing a man like this, maybe it’s the weed that’s making them not care in the slightest, maybe it’s the weed that’s making it feel so _good._

Zayn grabs Louis’ chin to keep his mouth in place and starts moving his lips against the warmth of Louis’ own, thankful when the boy recuperates. The kiss starts off slow, warm, soft lips pressing against warm, soft lips, but it’s not long before things get a bit heated, and Louis is pushing his bare arse into Zayn’s crotch, his own hand reaching up to hold on to Zayn’s face.

He doesn’t know what happens, really, one minute they’re back-to-chest, harmlessly kissing, the next Louis’ back is pressed against the tree, Zayn pressing him into the bark as he rubs their crotches together and sucks eagerly into Louis’ mouth. Zayn’s squeezing Louis’ waist so tight he’s sure there’s going to be bruises tomorrow, similarly with Louis’ fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. The first small moan that passes through Louis’ lips is what knocks Zayn into his senses, pulling an inch away from Louis’ lips and opening his eyes.

“Zayn,” Louis breathes, his lips brushing against Zayn’s chin as he speaks. “Please,”

“Bet you can’t let me fuck you,” he whispers, pressing the words into Louis’ skin as he kisses along his jawline.

“I– I can’t,” Louis hisses, his breath hitching every few seconds from Zayn’s soft kisses, “That’s illegal,”

“That’s what makes it fun,” He hums.

Louis moans when Zayn bites down on his exposed collarbone, “Zaynie if we get caught–”

“We won’t,” Zayn pulls away completely, earning a small whimper from Louis, and looks into the Teddy boy’s eyes. “Do you trust me, pretty boy?”

“So much,”

“Then I’ll make sure we don’t get caught. I promise.” Zayn says earnestly, before diving back in and sucking hard on Louis’ neck.

“ _Shit_ – okay,” He whines, digging his fingers into Zayn’s hair, “Okay, fuck me.”

Zayn grins against Louis’ skin and moves his hands down to the swell of Louis’ arse, squeezing roughly. It draws a moan out of the boy so he does it again, encouraging Louis to lift one leg and wrap it around Zayn’s waist. It changes the whole angle of everything and suddenly their dicks are sliding together much easier and it’s so much more pleasurable for both parties. Zayn pushes Louis further into the tree, immediately letting up when the boy hisses loudly.

“Bark hurts,” He whines, rubbing at his back, “Don’t fuck me against the tree, Z, please,”

“Okay, okay,” he mumbles, tapping the back of Louis’ other thigh, “Jump up, I’ll move us,”

Louis does, and Zayn cups his arse, holding on tightly as he moves them back to where his satchel is, laying Louis down on the grass and kissing him on the mouth. It’s not long before Louis starts to pull at Zayn’s clothes, and they’re quickly shed, thrown somewhere neither of them care about.

“Need to stretch you out,” Zayn whispers, pressing another kiss to Louis’ lips, “Have you ever fingered yourself, baby?”

“I–” Louis’ words get caught in his throat, but he doesn’t even need to finish, the blush on his cheeks is telling enough.

“Can I watch you open yourself up for my cock?”

Louis moans loudly, “Yes please,”

He’s sucking his fingers into his mouth quickly, his legs spread wide so he can fit his hand under his dick and to his hole. Zayn sits back on his heels, wrapping his hand around his dick and stroking lazily, drinking in the sight in front of him. Louis looks wrecked, his hair is all dishevelled, the gel no longer keeping his fringe in the signature Teddy boy point, his eyes are blown wide, his lips bitten red raw.

When he gets his fingers inside of him, however, Louis is _writhing_. It only takes a few pumps of his fingers for him to absolutely lose it, moaning loudly, tossing his head, biting his knuckles to stop himself from screaming out. Zayn briefly wonders why he’s never tried this before, if it feels that good. He starts wanking off in time to Louis’ fingers disappearing inside of himself and it’s no time at all before he’s having to squeeze the base of his dick so he doesn’t come before he’s even got inside the boy.

“Zayn, ‘m ready, need you, need you inside me, _please_ ,” Louis moans, making grabby hands for any part of Zayn’s body he can reach.

“I umm, I snatched a condom from my dad’s draw,” Zayn mutters, “It’ll go smoother if I put it on, yeah? Won’t hurt as much. You want me to get it?”

Louis whimpers. “Be quick.”

“I will, pretty boy, promise,” He says, pressing a kiss to Louis’ stocking clad (and sweaty) knee, before moving over to his satchel to retrieve the condom. It’s a small little thing in a tiny packet, and as a result has fallen to the bottom of his bag, meaning he has to do a bit of rummaging around, but he finds it eventually. “Got it!”

When Zayn turns back around, however, he’s being bowled over by Louis, knocking him onto his back and sitting on his hips.

“You gonna ride me, baby?” Zayn asks once he’s returned to his senses, “Gonna ride me like you rode my bike earlier? Knew you would. Knew you were tough enough.”

“Yeah, yeah, I am, I am,” Louis babbles, slowly rocking back and forth to give his dick some friction. Zayn can tell Louis is clearly in no state of mind to do much of anything, so takes the initiative to unwrap the condom and blindly roll it on to his dick, before returning his hands to their rightful place on Louis’ waist.

“Ready, sweetheart?”

Louis doesn’t even acknowledge Zayn, just rises up on his knees and reaches behind him to guide Zayn’s dick into his arsehole. Both groan loudly when his cock slips inside Louis’ rim, the sensation far too much for Zayn to bare, and only getting harder with each inch Louis slides down. It’s not long before Louis is fully seated on Zayn’s dick, the ton-up boy rubbing his thumbs under the lace of the garter belt in a comforting manner, and also to stop him from thrusting up and completely wrecking the boy.

“You okay?”

“You’re so big Zaynie,” Louis moans, gyrating his hips slowly to get used to the feeling of Zayn inside of him. “Feels so good,”

And, without so much as a warning, Louis starts bouncing up and down on Zayn’s dick. It’s the most amazing feeling Zayn has ever felt, a tight warm heat clenching and dragging over the veins of his dick, and he groans loudly, his finger nails gripping Louis’ hips tightly. His eyes keep closing with pleasure, and as much as he wants to keep them closed and let this feeling take over all his senses, Zayn wants to see Louis riding his dick so much more.

So with all his willpower, Zayn forces his eyes to stay open, and boy is he rewarded. Louis looks wonderful riding him, his back is arched in such a way that it not only pushes out his chest, but also pushes out his hips. His dick is red, slapping against the garter belt on every up movement and against Zayn’s stomach on every down. The garter belt itself, _wow_ , Louis’ skin looks like it’s glowing, and Zayn’s positive it’s not just the thin layer of sweat pooling on Louis’ chest that’s causing this. The lace trim feels amazing under Zayn’s fingers, harsh and rough compared to the soft skin on Louis’ hips, and it makes him want to rip it off the boy, but also keep it him on forever.

His face is unbelievable. Zayn almost comes just from catching a glimpse at him. His lip it caught between his teeth, somewhat keeping the breathy moans and high pitched whimpers quiet, a tiny amount of blood on Louis’ teeth where he’s bitten too hard into the flesh. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back, and he truly seems to be enjoying himself. The flush on his face is making it’s way down Louis’ neck and collarbones, and Zayn’s slightly worried that he may turn into a tomato very soon.

Zayn can’t help but fuck up into him. The hand on his chest clenches in his skin, Louis’ fingernails going white, while his other hand moves on top of Zayn’s own, making sure he doesn’t let go of Louis’ hips, doesn’t stop fucking him. His whole body seems to sag, his jaw going slack, shoulders relaxing, so Zayn figures he’s hit the boy’s g-spot. Or, whatever the boy version of a g-spot is.

“Za–” Louis is moaning so much he can’t even finish Zayn’s name. He collapses forward onto Zayn’s chest and mouths at his neck, letting the boy wrap an arm around his waist to keep him there as he fucks up into him.

The position quickly becomes uncomfortable and Zayn’s soon rolling them over so he’s on top, fucking up into Louis’ hole roughly. He reaches between their bodies and grabs a hold of Louis’ dick, wanking him off in time with his thrusts. Louis absolutely loses it.

“Please, Zaynie _please_ ,” He’s muttering, one hand on Zayn’s bicep, the other in his hair, “I need to come, please let me come,”

“Whatever you want, pretty boy,” Zayn says, pressing a kiss to Louis’ sweaty hair, and seconds later the boy is coming. Zayn isn’t sure if it’s his words of his actions that help Louis finally let go, but it doesn’t really matter either way (it does matter, and he does know).

Not long after, Zayn is coming into the condom, pulling out of Louis shortly after and collapsing on the grass next to him.

“Wow. Looks like you win again, Lou,” He exclaims breathlessly, listening to the harshness of his own breathing and trying to calm himself down. Louis seems to be somewhat composed, and rolls over onto his side, his body pressing into Zayn’s arm.

“We didn’t just do that because of a bet, did we?” He asks, “Please tell me that meant more to you than a stupid bet,”

“Oh Lou, you absolute idiot,” Zayn chuckles, grabbing the Teddy boy and pulling him into his chest. He kisses Louis’ sweaty hair and squeezes him tight. “Of course it did. I know I shouldn’t, but I proper fancy you,”

Louis looks up at him, smiling widely, “Well that’s good,” He says, moving his fingers to interlock them with Zayn’s perfectly, “Because I proper fancy you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to my last minute beta [Zoe](http://happilysunlight.tumblr.com) who yet again saved my butthole (i love u <3) and also thanks to the mod for hosting such an exchange!!
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://millionairelouis.tumblr.com) if you have a question or just want a friend!
> 
> Please leave kudos, comment, etc :) xox


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